A/N: I'm really happy how we're speeding along here. In no time we'll be all caught up and I can finally write some new chapters.

Note: the following is an IM conversation.

Trident Titans of London

mutheruv4: alright, what are you wearing?

Mac'n'cheese: for God's sake Harriet, he's going to be here any minute now. I only met him less then twelve hours ago and he now must think I'm a blackberry-obsessed freak due to you!

mutheruv4: I could hardly consider that my fault seeing as YOU were the one that started e-ing me when we were at lunch and . . . okay, I started the one in the car. But you started the Pants conversation!

Mac'n'cheese: Harriet he will be here any minute now! Stop it!

mutheruv4: well what are you wearing?

Mac'n'cheese: Jeans and a t-shirt.

mutheruv4: (sighs) you exasperate me.

Mac'n'cheese: He told me nothing formal after we exited the conference. And this is . . . well, not formal.

mutheruv4: which jeans?

Mac'n'cheese: for god's sake, Harriet, have you photographed my closet or something?

mutheruv4: I helped you unpack, that's good enough.

Mac'n'cheese: my really . . . dark ones. I don't know how to describe them! And my maroon colored t-shirt.

mutheruv4: Not the one with 'Def Leppard' stamped across the middle?

Mac'n'cheese: I'll have you know that Def Leppard is an extremely good band.

mutheruv4: Does Harm like them?

Mac'n'cheese: I . . . don't know.

mutheruv4: Then you should lose the t-shirt.

Mac'n'cheese: Oh, cut it out. This is NOT a date.

mutheruv4: Let's see - a man and woman going to dinner together with no work purposes whatsoever. Hmm . . . let's see. Bud!

Mac'n'cheese: Harriet, do not call –

mutheruv4: hi, ma'am

Mac'n'cheese: Bud?

mutheruv4: yes

Mac'n'cheese: um . . .

mutheruv4: oh, okay, Harriet just filled me in on the situation. I would say it's most probably a date.

Mac'n'cheese: thank you, Bud

mutheruv4: but considering the fact that Captain Rabb also has a girlfriend . . . owwsl;af - hi, it's me again. Bud just doesn't know when to stop talking.

Mac'n'cheese: what did you do to him?

mutheruv4: he's all right.

Mac'n'cheese: Harriet, what did you DO to him?

mutheruv4: nothing . . . he'll be all right - won't you sweetie? . . . yes, he says he'll be fine.

Mac'n'cheese: You threw him off the chair didn't you?

mutheruv4: How violent do you think I am, by the way?

Mac'n'cheese: Violent enough to - oh, he's here

mutheruv4: across the lobby?

Mac'n'cheese: yeah . . . I've . . . got to go . . .

mutheruv4: what's he wearing?

Mac'n'cheese: bye, Harriet.

mutheruv4: no wait - don't g . . .

Mac'n'cheese has logged off.

mutheruv4: go. Hmph. Okay, Bud, let's see your eye. It can't be all that swollen . . .

To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)

Subject: DINNER!

Okay, it's officially two in the morning. My kids are passed out on the beds. Bud has a . . . little bit of a sore eye but he'll be fine. He didn't end up putting the crib together at all last night because of his "hurt eye" (do not look at me like that). So he's got Nikki and Mitchell in bed with him - yes, I've got Jimmy and AJ, but don't worry, they're out like lights.

Anyway - more IMPORTANTLY - your date! Honestly, you HAVE to have come back by now! And if you haven't . . . well, details for the morning I guess. Come on, girl, full narration! I want to know EVERYTHING.

Harriet

To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)

From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: DINNER!

Alright - details? Full narration? Well be prepared to sit in front of your computer screen for a LONG time, my friend. Here's how it all began . . .

I saw him walking across the lobby. He was wearing fitting black jeans and a marine green t-shirt that took on his chest well, if you know what I mean. He smiled at me, I smiled at him, and he complimented me on my t-shirt. Apparently he doesn't mind the rhythmic screaming of Def Leppard. God bless him.

Well, you'll never guess where he took me, Harriet. And believe me, we totally blended in . . . the State Carnival was in the park that day. Really gigantic. I mean, it there were lights EVERYWHERE. Flashes of orange, and red, and green, and blue, and every color you could THINK OF soared through the blackened night sky. It was brilliant beyond brilliant. Well, as promised, first we went to eat dinner - me, two hot dogs and a bag of popcorn. Harm - two corn dogs and taking handfuls of popcorn out of my bag when he thought I wasn't looking.

We took a tour through the bumper cars (we would have gotten into individual ones to smash each other but there was a REALLY long line and if we didn't get into one, one of us was going to have to wait an extra turn). So we both crammed into one small little blue vehicle. Now, I can remember being a little kid and going in the bumper cars with my friends, equally as small as me. And I can remember even being a teenager and hopping into one of those cars with a date or something. But bumper cars are NOT meant for two full-grown adults. At least, the ones in London aren't.

We're sitting there, Harm in the driver's seat, me right next to him. The cars only have one belt that's meant to go across the entire seat so we're practically bound together on the little plastic seating.

"Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?" I asked him before we had started off. Everyone else was still getting into their cars. "This is no corvette."

"Don't trust me, Marine?" Harm had joked from beside me, the carnival lights illuminating an excited look upon his face. "Just sit back in your seat. Let the big bad squid do his job."

And I was about to retort, I really was, when suddenly we lurched forward at an alarming speed. The ride had begun. Harm steered sharply before we hit the wall, crashing full throttle into this small purple car that held two teenagers barely fourteen. And I would have felt bad, I really would have - because the girl in the car looked so scared - if the boy, who had been driving, had not reversed and rammed into US. It was getting personal.

Harm swerved around, our car making a screeching sound. We get rammed into by the side by a cherry red car. We're getting beaten badly. A white card drives into our rear and the whole vehicle jolts. I'm slammed into Harm's side, and he groans as he tucks me under one arm and steers around to avoid a yellow one darting right at us.

"Okay, this is NOT working!" I cried and flipping my arm out, I undid the bumper car belt. "Move over, Flyboy!"

"But Mac this –" Harm begins but I'm already moving up and over into his seat. Harm gives me a startled look but as obedient as he is to orders, he moves over. And I am JUST in my seat, Harriet. I mean just an inch away from sitting down when CRASH.

That little purple car with the two teenagers in it RAMS into our sides and what do you know? We're not buckled. I fly sideways and crash onto Harm's lap. Yes, that's right, I was in his LAP. His arms entangle mine to keep me from actually falling OUT of the car. And all I can think about is THE STEERING WHEEL. My hands fly forward and grasp the wheel, spinning our car into the mess of other vehicles. My eyes scan the crowd for the little purple car and then I see it. Off to the left corner. I lurch forward, we shoot at a speed so alarming, my hair is flying back. I can see their car, paused right in front of the wall. We're closing, closing, closing . . . and then . . . they move.

We ram into the wall head first. Harm lurches forward with me on his lap, but he wraps one arm around my waist and the other my back to keep me from falling. I grab onto anything I can get my hands on. Incidentally, of course, I get mine around Harm's neck. I bring him down with me. We fall onto the floor of the bumper car, his body on top of mine but doing his best not to crush me. We roll until we hit the sides of the seat. And by that time, the music has stopped. The ride is over.

I lay on the floor of the bumper car, my back pressed up against the metal and Harm trying to disentangle his body from mine. "Well that was fun," I said, my breath broken and heavy.

"Oh yeah," Harm replied, pulling me up. "We've got to do that again some time."

I smile very dramatically. "I'd like that."

We're just walking out of the bumper car ring when the two teenagers in the purple car come running up to us. And for the first time I get a good look at their faces. The boy seems exceptionally tall for his age, with light brown hair and green eyes. The girl is slightly smaller with a curvaceously thin build and darker hair and eyes. They both look somewhat distressed.

"Are you okay?" the girl asks, her voice uncommonly throaty for a girl that age.

"We saw you go flying off of the seat," the boy elaborates, turning to look more at Harm while the girl looks at me.

Harm looks rather amused by the youngsters' distress. "We're fine. Thanks." He rubs his shoulder gingerly. "I guess we are getting a little old for the bumper cars."

"Nah, you were great," the girl retorts, her dark eyes keen. "By the way, I'm Sasha. And this is Hanson," she motioned to the boy beside her. "Anyways, we've got to go." She looks around kind of anxiously. "This is our first date and . . . well, we can't stay out too late."

Harm grins. "Ours too. Have fun."

He loops one arm around my shoulder in a jovial way as we head the opposite direction of the teenagers'. "They're a couple of cute kids."

I smile at him. "I don't know if you could really call them kids any more." I look after their retreating forms. "Their first date . . ." and then I remember what Harm said. "So is this officially considered a date, flyboy?"

"Hey, I couldn't let them show us up," Harm replies roughly, steering me towards the Ferris Wheel. "Apologizing for getting us hurt . . . how young do they think they are? No wait, how old do they think WE are? They're never too old to learn another lesson."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied rolling my eyes. "Now come on, Old Man, take me on the Ferris Wheel."

"Ah, but where's the excitement on that?" he asked as we joined the line.

"You get to see the whole carnival from the top seat," I replied grinning. The next round we took our seats in the little chairs, the bar keeping us from falling. The sky was pitch black by then, Harriet. I suppose it was . . . maybe nine o'clock or so. The ride started moving and I let a little shriek of excitement escape me. I really like Ferris Wheels.

Harm grinned at me as we neared the top. "Get ready to look down, Ninja Girl. We only get one more look from the top after this."

"Ready and waiting," I smiled from beside him. "Bring it on."

And then . . . we stopped. I mean it. The ride seriously stopped, with our seat right at the top. And I looked down and down and down and down and the ground looked very far away. I stole a glance at Harm. "It's not supposed to do this."

"Ease up a little," Harm replied, his voice reassuring. "I bet they just do this to get a little excitement in the crowd."

Several minutes passed. We did not move an inch. "Okay, this is getting a little tiring," I muttered, shifting positions a little and making our seat wobble.

"Don't do that, Mac," Harm's voice comes out so rushed that it sounds more like 'dundoatmac'. His hands clench onto the metal bar that holds us in our seats. I look at him with my eyebrow cocked up to the sky.

"What?" I asked innocently. "No wobbling?" And I shake our seat for all it's worth. You know how sick I get when I go up in airplanes, especially tomcats? He looks about just as bad.

One he's certain that I've stopped shaking the seat, he unclenches his hands from the bar and reach into his jeans pocket and pulls out a pack of gum. He throws one wad into his mouth. It seems as though chewing on something help him with the anxiety of the scenario. Hmm, maybe I should try that next time. He sees me watching him. "Do you want one?"

"Sure," I replied, and pulled out a stick of Trident Cherry flavored gum from his packet and commence chewing. We sit like that for a while, just chewing in a horse-like manner when I stretch the gum on the tip of my tongue and blow a bubble, popping it, and withdrawing the gum back into my mouth for more chewing. Harm watches me out of those ocean blue eyes of his and then blows a bubble too.

All I can say is, it was pretty big.

I blow another one, carefully stretching the sticky substance while inflating it with air. My bubble is very big. Bigger than Harm's. Harm grins at me and chews some more. But this time he's too quick while blowing the bubble. It's small and it pops quickly. By this time we're both racing to blow bubbles. What can I say - we were the Trident Titans of London. Doesn't that name sound grand?

Harm fumbles with the pack of Trident, throwing another stick into my hand and a wad in his mouth. We're both chewing furiously. I blow long and hard - the bubble grows massive before it splits apart and onto the tip of my nose. Harm chuckles, also blowing his. It reaches almost just below his eyes before it pops. "Mine's biggest."

If any words were meant to induce challenge, it was those. I blow long hard and furiously, wasting all my breath into one enormous bubble. It pops sending bright pink gum all over my face. I slurp it back into my mouth, chewing again. "Not any more."

And the minutes we were up there on the highest most chair of the Ferris Wheel seem to melt away. We're laughing and blowing and chewing and then – of course, it has to happen. Something ALWAYS has to happen. I'm blowing a GIGANTIC bubble. And I mean it. It's like the size of a whole freaking melon so I turn towards Harm to show him – seeing as I can't very well say anything.

And I can remember it all in slow motion. I turn around to show him, my bubble swelling furiously on my mouth and at that exact moment - that precise moment, Harm turns with a gigantic bubble on his mouth. And what do you know Harriet? Our bubbles collide and burst apart - but the gum hanging from both our mouths has now formed one massive wad.

And we're on either end.

So for a second their we're just sitting and staring at the large gum wad that is connecting both our mouths. And I guess Harm decides to play it coy. He start reeling in the gum wad. Of course, gum – being gum – does not require me to tag along, it just simply stretches and stretches and stretches until it becomes as thin as a noodle. But I got curious. What would happen if I DID go along with it?

Harm's reeling in our gigantic gum string and I can feel myself going with the end. His mouth was SOOO close, Harriet. So close. Our lips were literally an inch away. And then, what do you know? THAT'S when the ride decides to move.

The motion is so abrupt, so utterly surprising I'm thrown. ONTO HIS LAP AGAIN. I crash into his chest, our gum flies. And where does it land? Come on, give a guess, Harriet. Just give one. Into the worst place possible. IT'S IN OUR HAIR.

So I don't realize I've got gigantic sticky pink streaks dangling from my dark locks, all I can see is it clamping down on his hair. So though I'm off balance, leaning on his lap, that stupid metal bar pressing painfully into my side, my hands finger their way through his hair trying to peel the gum from his scalp while his hands go through mine, pulling out long wads of gum.

No matter how "romantic" you might think it was, Harriet, that is definitely NOT something I wish to experience again. So, by the time we get down from the Ferris Wheel, our hair is covered in Trident's Super Pack of Cherry gum, I'm halfway in his lap, and everyone is staring at us. STARING. So what starts to happen, Harriet? Think about it – what could make this night any more "perfect" than it already is? It starts to RAIN.

Everyone's running around the park looking for shelter. Harm grabs my hand and pulls me across the street, dodging cars on our way over. We run under the little umbrella sheltering of a nearby café. What can I say, Harriet? We're DRENCHED. From the soles of my runners to the top of my gum covered head I am soaked. And Harm's no better.

"Come on," Harm said quietly, holding open the door of the café. "Let's wait the rain out."

I follow him in and we sit at the corner table. We're getting some strange looks from everyone else. Let's just say - I can imagine why. And it doesn't bother me one bit. We both have just ordered coffees when the most wonderful song breaks out over the radio in the café. I don't know if you've ever heard it Harriet, but it's called '100 Years' by Five For Fighting. And the lyrics are simply beautiful. I've loved the song for a long time and when it started playing in the café, I began to sing the lyrics softly and under my breath.

I look at Harm and I see a very strange emotion burning its way into his glass blue eyes. An emotion I can't seem to place.

And suddenly Harm starts humming. I can't imagine why. My voice is so soft I doubt anyone but Harm could hear it but he almost seems to be . . . enjoying the song. I didn't think anyone but I liked it. It's so slow and lazy but completely and beautifully original.

"Care to dance?" Harm offers me a hand, hopping off his chair at the same time. To tell you I'm stunned would be the understatement of the century. I take his hand, smiling at him in a very sweet way.

"Sure."

Harm leads me almost awkwardly onto the floor of the café. I don't know whether it's meant to be danced on, but it feels perfectly natural when Harm puts his hand on my waist and enclosing my other hand with his. Perfectly natural.

"Five for Fighting, right?" Harm asked me after a moment as we swayed a little, proximity very close. I nodded in response, my eyes shut in the way that blocked me out from the world . . . except for Harm.

"Those two kids we met at the carnival remind you of anyone?" Harm murmured softly. "Hanson and Sasha?"

I grinned at him brightly. "I can think of a few people who they're like."

Alright, I've got to ask. Did Five for Fighting actually set out onto the street and pick up Harm and my lives or something when they wrote these lyrics? Are they supposed to bury themselves so deep under your skin that they play over and over in your mind, professing their intentions to you? Because I can see Harm and my reflections in this song – and it's scaring me.

I look up at Harm to find him staring at me, his blue eyes almost undeservingly considerate. I'm lost in the sway of the motion and the fluency of the music. We're standing there dancing in a café that has probably never been danced in, our clothes wet and sticking to our bodies, and the less said about our hair the better. But we're perfectly content.

I don't know why I feel like crying. And I did, Harriet. I really felt like I was going to burst into tears. Maybe because I haven't had a magical moment like this in . . . a year. A year – when he left. A year. The realization of the moment is profound and breaking, and I don't care what you say, Harriet. I don't care that we're wet and covered in gum and everyone's staring at us. I don't.

And as the music dies away we both break apart. I admit, perhaps a little reluctantly, but we definitely separated. Harm looks outside the window at the street and the billowing wind, the night sky enveloping it all with its star-studded cape. "The rain's lessened. But shall we run for it anyway?"

It was a mere drizzle but running in the rain is FUN. Especially to two people who already look like they've been drowned anyway. We ran all the way to the steps of the hotel and seeing as this hotel IS a rather classy place, let's just say we weren't welcomed with open arms by the doormen. We stood under the shelter of the first floor balcony, both our jeans drenched and my t-shirt beginning to stick to my body, as the ran drizzled around us.

"So, I'll . . . see you . . . tomorrow," Harm says slowly, fumbling with his words as if there was something else he wanted to tell me but either couldn't find the words or the heart.

"Yeah," I replied easily, smiling at him and admiring the way his hair – a tad longer than the last time I saw it – curled slightly when wet. It almost hid the hideous pink gum. "See you tomorrow for breakfast?"

Harm grins at me, opening the door slowly to the hotel room. "You can count on it."

We stand there at the doorway then, just waiting for the other to say something when the doorman clears his throat very loudly. I suppose we were getting water all over the velvet rug.

"Well, bye then," Harm says quickly and then moves away from the door, turning to run through the rain and down the street. I smiled and turned away, tracking more water on the rug as I walked to the elevator. And now I sit here, having just showered (yes, more water – I did need to get that gum out of my hair, after all) in a terrycloth robe emailing you.

Because you just NEEDED all the details. So how did I do?

Mac

P.S.: you can go ahead and email me back but I will be out like a log until my alarm clock goes off tomorrow morning so see ya.

A/N: The song they were dancing to is called 100 Years by Five For Fighting. It's one of my favorite songs and incidentally was the song used in the series finale of JAG (but I liked it waaaaay before that). Anyways . . . POLL TIME! How do you think this date went? Mishaps and all.